


Sweets to the Sweet

by Butterfly_girl



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Dealing with guilt is hard, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Post-World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly_girl/pseuds/Butterfly_girl
Summary: It's been a long time since Prompto last saw Ravus and his arrival drags up a barrage of emotions and memories from the past.But Prompto can't deny his feelings for ever, and perhaps- after all- it's finally time for him to move on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was always planned as a one-shot but, as always, I lack the ability to be concise with anything.
> 
> So have three chapters instead!

Winter was colder without him. It sounded strange to say but it was true. It was the fifth winter Prompto had spent alone and he supposed he should have been getting used to it by now. But somehow this one felt colder than ever, and he felt a constant nagging longing for him in the pit of his stomach. He certainly felt the cold now as he trudged slowly along the path through the park- not that it was really a path anymore. It was more like muddy water in motion, deep puddles hiding the ruts of dryer weather. The biting air chilled his fingers into clumsy numbness and he fumbled with the buttons of his jacket as he tried to fasten it up, choosing instead to wrap it tightly around him and hug it against his chest, praying that the warmth of the fur lining would provide him with some protection. The cold had seeped through the thick soles of his boots too and spread painfully to the tips of his toes as if it were his bare feet making contact with the crisp, brown leaves that lay discarded on the ground, a bleak reminder of his loses. 

He paused momentarily, bending over to re-lace one of his boots. He knew the journey was taking him longer than usual but the truth was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to reach his destination. He’d left it too long- he knew that. And he felt guilty, though he knew Noct wouldn’t mind, that he wouldn’t blame him at all. He’d be full of understanding and forgiveness, just as he always had been. It was forgiving himself that he found difficult.

Prompto’s teeth chattered- a warning for him to keep moving- and he straightened up, pulling down his woollen hat to cover his ears and pushing his glasses up his nose, ignoring the mist that had settled over the bottom half of each lens to mask his vision. He didn’t really need to see anyway. He’d made this journey so many times over the last five years- every day, in fact, for the first two. It was only more recently he’d begun to stay away, unable to cope with the constant reminder yet, at the same time, equally unable to move on with his life. Regardless, he knew this path like the back of his hand, and was sure he would have been able to navigate every twist and turn blindfolded and with both hands tied behind his back. He knew where he was going, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to get there…

The wind prodded at him again like icy fingers pushing him forward, wrapping around him like a shawl woven from snow, and he started to walk again, his steps quicker now as though his body was determined to fight against his mind. The wintry trees that lined the weaving pathway were surprisingly menacing, particularly in the early evening gloom, and they seemed to stare at him accusingly as he passed them. He’d always thought they reminded him of ballet dancers ready to begin a show, poised to show the world their grace. They had lost the majority of their leaves now- a few scattered ones like amber stars in an otherwise clear sky clinging on for dear life as though they didn’t want to leave had fallen weeks ago- but they continued to stand proudly as though their silvery-brown skin had been their crowning glory all along. He couldn’t help but be in awe of how strong they were, their strength showing in how they remained so still despite the seasonal gusts that rushed through their branches and attempted to knock them down again and again. He’d thought himself strong once but these days he wasn’t so sure. If he was strong, he wouldn’t have any trouble visiting the one he’d loved. The one he still loved. He looked down at the ground as he walked, anything to draw his eyes away from the trees, focusing instead on the metal-capped toes of his boots as they disturbed the mounds of leaves that had fallen so suddenly over the last few weeks. 

A particularly violent gust of wind ran past him and for a moment Noct was there next to him, laughing and whispering into his ear as he clasped his hand tightly. Prompto felt his eyes sting with the beginnings of tears and he slipped his hand under his glasses to brush them away, his woollen mittens rough against his chilled skin.

“I’m coming, Noct,” he murmured, lifting his head and forcing his eyes open as he squinted against the cold.

He took a deep breath as he rounded the corner, steadying himself as he prepared for the moment he’d been dreading. The first thing that hit him was how different it looked to the last time he’d been here, though he supposed it had been summer then and the graves had been covered in brightly coloured flowers of all descriptions, the neatly-planted hibiscus like a carpet of red and the blossom trees full of pale pink petals that created a protective awning to draw his attention away from the cold, grey stone that was so visible now. 

Now all he saw were the rows of tombstones that stood in silence to the left and the right, in front and behind, like a sea of the dead. Some were crumbled with the weathering of centuries, some were smooth marble with new black writing. Those who had visited recently had still brought their usual floral tributes, the remnants that had miraculously survived the recent storms sitting stubbornly in place on top of the newer graves. Most, though, were overgrown and unkept, as in many cases even their mourners had joined them under the clay soil. He couldn’t help but feel sad for those who had no visitors, but he had no time today to stop and talk to them, to tidy up the areas around their graves and dig out the moss that covered their names with his fingernails in the way he’d always used to do when he came to visit. Today was about one person and one person only. Today was about Noct. His was the only grave that mattered. 

Prompto had protested at first when Ignis had suggested burying him here. He deserved something much grander, for his grave to be somewhere prominent in the city where everyone would see him and be reminded of everything he had done for them. But he understood now. It was what Noct would have wanted. He’d always been so determined not to stand out, to show that he was no better than anybody else. Prompto disagreed, but then he would have disagreed whether he’d been King of Lucis or not. That was almost irrelevant. He was just Noct, and to him he would always be better than everyone else. And this suited him better anyway. A grave on top of a hill overlooking the sea. It was perfect, even on a dull, cold day like today. 

He made his way slowly up the hill, the wind fiercer than ever now and pushing him back with such force that every step seemed a challenge he might not be able to complete. Head down, he turned up the collar of his jacket so it covered his neck and thrust his hands deep into his pockets, forcing himself to ignore the way the wind stung his already chapped skin as it slammed against it.

It was the blanket of flowers covering the grave that caught his eye first, the beautiful petals- a purer blue than anything else he had ever seen- startlingly bright against the dove grey sky swirling above them. They were pleasantly familiar, their appearance and scent conjuring up images of much happier times, and for a moment he felt a rush of warmth soak into his shivering muscles. But the longer he stared at them the more out of place they seemed, not just because of the location but because the one person he associated them with had been nothing more than a fading memory for such a long time. The flowers- so distinctly sylleblossoms even from such a distance away- were a reminder that Noct wasn’t the only person he missed…

“Oh…” Prompto gasped in disbelief as he spotted the figure on the edge of the cliff, his face hidden as he stared out to sea. Not that he needed to see a face to know who it was. There were only two people who would have thought to adorn Noct’s grave with sylleblossoms, and one of them had been dead for many years. “Ravus…” He murmured the word so quietly it was inaudible even to his own ears, squinting into the mist as though he half expected him to disappear. 

But it was definitely him. He was real. And he was here, though Prompto had no idea why. He felt his breath catch in the back of his throat as he looked him up and down. Years had passed but from the back at least he looked exactly the same. He held himself in the same proud manner he always had, his strong, broad shoulders- emphasised now by the dark, velvet cloak he had draped over them- unweakened by age. It had been a long time since Prompto had last seen him and they hadn’t exactly parted on the friendliest of terms, but he couldn’t deny the way he made him feel. He’d tried to ignore his feelings back then, tried to ignore the way his stomach knotted and clenched every time he laid eyes on him, the way his heart seemed to jump and leap and somersault in his chest whenever they exchanged even the briefest of conversations. He’d tried to repress it, he really had. He’d had long conversations with his reflection in the mirror, using every persuasive technique he knew to convince himself that it was just a silly crush, that if he ignored it for long enough it would go away.

But then Noct had disappeared and he had been there, and Prompto hadn’t been able to hold back any longer.

He swallowed at the memory, his throat suddenly dry and parched as he thought about the last time they had seen each other. Stepping forward tentatively, he tiptoed across the crisp, icy ground so as not to make a noise. It was strange to see Ravus look so peaceful, the only movement the curtain of silky, silver hair as it caught the wind and billowed out from the back of his head, and for a split second he thought about turning back and leaving him to his own thoughts. But it was too late now. He’d been planning this visit for weeks, counting down the days and preparing himself for the pain he knew he was going to have to face. Even today he’d had to fight so hard to actually leave the house and make the journey, knocking back every excuse his mind invented for why he shouldn’t come. And now he was here, and he wasn’t going to leave without talking to Noct. If that meant a confrontation with Ravus… well, he was just going to have to deal with it.

Prompto’s stomach knotted and clenched painfully and he pressed one hand to it, the sensation so intense that he almost expected to feel the fluttering of butterfly wings against his palm. He’d never expected to feel like this again. He hadn’t wanted to. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to now, but he’d be a fool to believe he was actually in control of his body. He hadn’t managed to control himself the last time and he wasn’t sure this time would be any different.

He stood watching him for a few moments, his eyes focused on the loose strands of hair that seemed to dance so joyfully in the breeze. He clenched his fists in his pockets as he remembered running his hands through that hair, the softness like velvet between his fingers as he’d buried them deep within it, clinging on as he’d savoured the first reminders of human contact he’d had in years. He remembered the way that hair had tickled the sensitive skin between his legs as it had dusted against it, how it had made him moan and cry out in pleasure as it touched his skin. 

He shook his head regretfully. It had been what he’d needed to keep him going, to keep him alive when things had gotten so hard he’d been on the verge of just lying down and giving up. But the memories were laced with so much guilt it made him feel sick. He’d betrayed Noct, and he’d never even been brave enough to admit it. Noct had gone to his grave believing that Prompto had remained loyal as he waited for him to return, and it was that thought more than anything that filled his mind as he tossed and turned at night. 

“Ravus?” Prompto spoke again, his voice louder this time as he tried to compete against the howling wind that had taken up residence at the top of the hill.

“Prompto.” Ravus spun round, his lips twisting into a tight smile. His eyes were as striking as they always had been and Prompto felt himself shiver again as they gazed at him, though it wasn’t the cold wind this time that caused his muscles to tremble. Ravus’ eyes had always had a way of staring through him with such intensity he couldn’t help but feel they were piercing into his soul and delving into his deepest, darkest secrets. “You’re here. I wondered if you might decide to visit…” 

“Of course I’m here.” Prompto felt suddenly defensive. Ravus had always had a way of speaking to him that made him feel like he was in the wrong, and today was no different. He realised it was probably his own guilt at not visiting more regularly that was making him feel like was about to cry, but Ravus’ words had hit hard and he felt burning anger replace the feeling of butterflies in the pit of his stomach. “It’s Noct’s grave! Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I think you must have misunderstood me, my dear Prompto.” Ravus moved forwards towards him, the motion so smooth it seemed like he was gliding through the air rather than walking across the uneven, grassy mounds with their protruding tree roots, twisting and turning and weaving awkwardly all over the cemetery. Prompto had tripped and fallen more than once as he attempted to navigate his way towards the grave, and had once complained to Gladio that the roots must search him out and grab at his ankles on purpose. He couldn’t possibly be that clumsy, could he? Ravus had no such difficulty and his composed calmness only fuelled the flames of anger that Prompto could feel growing inside him. “I was simply concerned about your wellbeing.” He paused, reaching up his hand to brush Prompto’s hair away from his forehead, tucking it fondly into his hat. “When I arrived this morning, it didn’t seem as if anybody had visited in quite a while. The plants were overgrown and the posy of flowers- brought here by yourself, I presume- was brown and decaying.”

“I can’t be here every day…” Prompto looked down at the ground, very aware of the embarrassed blush that was spreading across his cheeks. He was relieved he’d chosen to wear his hat this morning, as he was sure his ears would be burning the same bright red as the rest of his face. “There’s always so much to do these days. Life is pretty busy, you know?” His voice trailed off and he sniffed, rubbing the tip of his nose with his gloved hand.

“Too busy to visit the grave of the man you love?” Ravus raised one eyebrow, the purple iris underneath it sparkling as it caught the final rays of evening sunlight that had just managed to force their way through the thick, grey cloud. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Yeah, well…” Prompto shrugged, scuffing the toe of his boot across the ground so it left a deep groove in the nearly-frozen mud. “People change. You should know that more than anyone.” He sniffed again, blinking furiously in an attempt to clear the tears that were building up in the corners of both eyes. He didn’t want Ravus to see him cry. Not today. He cleared his throat and looked up, biting his lower lip anxiously as he took in Ravus’ face. It brought back so many buried emotions that he wasn’t sure he could deal with right now, and he felt the knot in his stomach work its way up until it was lodged in his throat. He wanted to cry and wail and howl into the wind, to bury his face in Ravus’ chest until the very last tear had dried up. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It just didn’t feel right. 

Neither of them spoke for what seemed like an eternity and the silence gnawed at Prompto’s insides until the anger and pain that had been sitting there for so long felt like it was eating its way though his stomach wall like some sort of alien. It was like a gaping void between them, needing to be filled with sounds, with words… with anything. But there was only the howling of the wind, its cry mirroring Prompto’s own distress. He knew that if words were to come out now, they would be words of anger, poisonous blame that would help nobody. 

He felt a tear slide down his cheek, salty and warm as it caressed his skin. It was the first time that day he’d felt grateful for the wind. If Ravus said anything, he could at least blame his watery eyes and runny nose on the cold.

“I replaced your bouquet with sylleblossoms.” Ravus gestured in the direction of the grave, his eyes narrowing into an expression of concern as he watched Prompto rub at his face again. “I hope you don’t mind. I think Noct would have appreciated them.”

“How the fuck do you know what Noct would have appreciated?” Prompto spat out the words before he could stop himself, his voice filled with so much malice he surprised himself

“Excuse me?” 

Ravus looked genuinely taken aback at Prompto’s outburst but it was too late for apologies now. The floodgates had opened and Prompto was sure they wouldn’t close again until he’d got everything out of his system. He’d been an emotional volcano ready to erupt at any moment, ready to lash out and hurt whatever obstacles were in his path. And Ravus appeared to be that obstacle, unwittingly placing himself the way of the lava. 

Not that any of this was Ravus’ fault. Not really. He’d just been there, a shoulder to cry on. A friend when he’d felt all alone. Prompto had been the one to initiate things. Ravus had even held back, suggesting that this might not have been what he’d really wanted, reminding him that it was Noct he truly loved. But Prompto had persisted regardless, desperate to feel something- anything- after feeling numb for so long. And eventually Ravus had stopped protesting and had given him what he’d wanted and more, holding him afterwards as he sobbed and wailed, every muscle in his body trembling as he let out the emotions he hadn’t even realised he’d been feeling. He’d fallen into an exhaustion-fuelled sleep in the end, tossing and turning restlessly all night long despite Ravus’ attempts to soothe him. He’d been there when Prompto woke up too, his white-blonde hair falling loosely over one shoulder as he lay propped up on one shoulder, his voice calm and reassuring as he smoothed his hair back from his face, wiping away the beads of sweat that clung to his clammy skin.

“You barely knew him. You never bothered to get to know him.” Prompto knew tears were streaming down his face now but he didn’t care, ignoring the moisture that collected on his top lip and allowing the saltiness to creep into his mouth and coat his tongue. “You didn’t even like him!”

“I didn’t dislike him…” 

“Yeah? You could have fooled me! You could have fooled all of us!” Prompto stopped to wipe his face, loose flecks of wool clinging to the damp tracks that snaked their way down both cheeks. “And now you turn up at his fucking grave of all places? Why are you even here, Ravus?” 

Ravus reached out to run a hand down the side of Prompto’s face, his fingers cool and dry against his heated skin. Prompto felt his stomach relax for a second, the pressure that had been building over his chest lessening as though a fist was opening and releasing his lungs from its grip. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, closing his eyes and devouring the sensation of Ravus’ fingertips as they traced the outline of the cluster of freckles that still dotted his nose and cheeks. 

But then he thought of Noct and his chest tightened again until he could hardly breathe. He couldn’t do this. Noct was the one he loved. Noct was the only one he loved, and if the only way to make things up to him was to be alone for the rest of his life then he was willing to make that sacrifice. He deserved it anyway after the way he’d betrayed him. He deserved to be unhappy…

“Don’t touch me.” Prompto gasped for breath, putting both hands on Ravus’ chest and pushing him away. Ravus stumbled backwards, the expression of hurt etched across his face causing the pain in Prompto’s stomach to intensify further. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

“What do you want me to do, Prompto?” Ravus straightened his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his face. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“I want… I want…” Prompto stammered, placing his hands over his face and letting out a growl of frustration. “Just fuck off, ok?” He looked up, his expression hardening as he knelt down beside Noct’s grave, adjusting some of the sylleblossoms so that they framed his name perfectly. “Just fuck off.”

Unable to look at Ravus any longer, he stared down at the grave, the edges of each undefined letter slightly blurry as the tears continued to fill his eyes and masked his vision. Tugging off one glove, he followed the grooves of the words with one finger, his fingernail catching the moss which grew stubbornly in the nooks and crannies of the stone. He tuned into his own breathing, the way the air squealed as his blocked nostrils begrudgingly allowed the smallest amount to enter. He focused, too, on the rise and fall of his chest, trying to steady his breathing, relaxing each of his muscles until he could breathe freely again. 

And when he finally glanced up again, Ravus was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Time had always lacked meaning when he visited Noct’s grave. On some occasions it seemed to stand still, a momentary pause as though it was trying to prolong the time they spent together. Other times it moved more quickly like a videotape on fast forward, morning becoming afternoon and then fading into evening without him even realising. And this visit was more like the latter. By the time Prompto climbed to his feet, brushing the dried fragments of dead leaf off his pants and pulling back on his mittens, his muscles were stiff and pins and needles had spread through one foot so severely he almost lost his balance and fell back down. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, staring at the letters as they jumped and skipped in front of his eyes, no longer forming words but simply patterns and shapes in the air as he focused on memories and thoughts rather than the grave in front of him. 

It was only when he glanced up at the sky that he realised he’d been there long enough for the sun to set without him even noticing, leaving behind a blanket of misty blackness that no star dared to fight its way through. He shivered as he made his way back down the hill and through the cemetery. The wind had died down- now more of a gentle breeze than the fierce gusts that had almost knocked him over earlier. But it was certainly no less unpleasant. What it lacked in force it made up for in sheer bitterness, the trickles of arctic air spearing through every layer of clothing and pricking his skin, sinking down to his very bones.

Closing the gate to the cemetery behind him, Prompto took a deep breath and shuddered, wrapping his coat more tightly around him and clenching his fists in his pockets. He squinted into the darkness, blinking several times as he waited for his eyes to adjust. He would have thought he’d be used to it by now but even after all these years the dark still made him feel nervous. It was as if the park in front of him at been etched in charcoal, any colour that had managed to survive the ravishing advances of the rapidly-approaching winter sucked out instead by the clutches of nighttime. Even the shadows of the trees were barely visible, blending into the darkness so that only their silhouettes loomed menacingly above him. But what really struck him were the sounds that filled the air, echoing from behind the trees as though he was completely surrounded by the same monstrosities that so often haunted his nightmares. If it hadn’t been for the cold, he might have hesitated a lot longer but his teeth were already chattering and he could barely feel his nose. He needed to get home and snuggle under a big pile of blankets. If Ignis was still awake, he might even manage to persuade him to warm up some of that amazing soup he’d made a couple of days ago. If that didn’t help him feel better, nothing would!

Breathing heavily, he began to move forward, pushed on by the ever deepening cold that flooded his body. It hadn’t been an easy path to walk in the daylight but now it felt almost impossible, his feet making contact with a different obstacle every couple of seconds. Each step was more tentative than the last as he tried to navigate his way through puddles and over stray branches that had been brought down by the recent storms. He knew that it would only take the tiniest lapse in concentration and he would… 

“Fuck.”

Before he knew what was happening, the metal toe of Prompto’s boot made contact with a particularly twisted tree root and he tripped, grabbing out wildly for something- anything- to keep him upright. His hand grazed the side of the tree, the damp bark peeling away far too easily as he tried to cling to it, and he lost his balance completely, his knee twisting painfully underneath him as he fell.

He groaned, his hand shooting immediately to his knee where it felt around blindly to assess the damage. It ached like a bitch and he knew without even trying that walking on it would be quite a challenge. But surprisingly it didn’t feel like anything was broken and his pants had remained undamaged, the thick material bringing welcome protection from the harsh surface of the path. Reaching for his hat, he pulled it down more tightly over his ears, shoving his bangs out of the way before feeling around in the dark for his glasses. They’d slipped off his nose when he’d fallen and, after his knee, were the thing he was most worried about. He could barely see without them these days and if they hadn’t remained intact he wasn’t sure how he’d possibly make it the rest of the way home. He felt disorientated enough just sitting on the ground without them, his surroundings so blurred he could have been anywhere.

He was beginning to panic, his chest tightening and his palms becoming sticky with anxious sweat when his hand finally made contact with the cold plastic frames. He let out a sigh of relief, grabbing hold of them eagerly and running his fingers over them. They seemed to have managed to stay in one piece, and he felt suddenly grateful that he’d chosen the thicker, sturdier frames that Ignis had recommended rather than his first choice, which almost certainly would fallen apart the second they’d hit the ground. Scooping them up, he held them in front of his face to examine them more closely, hoping the dozen or so stars that had begun to emerge from behind the clouds would provide enough light to stop any more accidents from slowing down his journey.

“Thanks the gods,” he murmured, flicking away the specks of dirt that clouded the lenses and pushing them firmly back onto his face. 

Prompto shivered again, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them. 

“Ouch,” he moaned, pulling his hands apart and staring at his palm. It was still dark but there just was enough moonlight sneaking through the gaps in the trees for him to see what had caused the pain. One of his mittens had been shredded, the fibres ripped apart to leave a gaping hole slap bang in the centre of his hand. The resulting graze shimmered as it caught the light, the blood pooling near the surface of the skin so that the wound looked unpleasantly moist and oozing. “Shit.” It was a superficial wound and he’d suffered far worse but he knew it’d be a tricky one to heal without an immediate potion, and he hadn’t thought to pack any when he’d left the house.

He tugged what remained of the tattered mitten off, gritting his teeth as strands of wool caught in the wound. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he brushed them away quickly, biting his lower lip as he tried to fight them back. This was no time for crying. This was the time to move, to get up. To get home and warm. 

“Stop being so fucking pathetic, Prompto,” he muttered to himself.

Placing one hand on the nearby tree, he eased himself onto his feet, drawing in a tight breath as his injured leg took his weight for the first time. He hobbled forward gingerly, still leaning against the tree as he did so. Fuck, it hurt… He tested it again, releasing his grip on the tree branch this time and allowing the knee to absorb a little more pressure. Swallowing, he took a few slow steps forward, being careful to avoid the tree root he’d fallen over the first time. It was painful- there was no denying that. And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage anything quicker than a slow limp for at least a couple of days. But he could walk, and as long as he could walk he could make it home. 

The rest of the journey seemed to rush by in a flash and before he knew it he’d made it back onto the main road, the harsh, fluorescent glow of the streetlights overwhelmingly bright after the darkness of the park. They should have been comforting, a reminder of how close he was to home, but in reality they had the opposite effect. He’d underestimated how tired he was, how much energy had been sucked out of him by the events of the evening. And what’s more he hadn’t realised quite how cold he’d gotten, the wintry air continuing to swirl around him and taking every lick of warmth that he could. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and tucked his chin downward so it was covered by his scarf, the cotton painfully rough as it brushed his skin. It didn’t seem to make a difference though. He was so cold now that his hands and feet were like blocks of ice, frozen solid and almost immobile, and his lips were so chapped and dry that they were painful to move. A few stray strands of hair crept free of the confines of his hat, hanging stiffly over his forehead as though they too had been frozen. His breath was visible now under the streetlights, misty puffs of smoke billowing in front of his eyes as he breathed in and out, and he quickened his pace, his knee throbbing as he urged his legs to move more quickly. 

It was only as Prompto rounded the corner that he felt the first drop of ice-cold water pinch his skin, trickling down his forehead and snaking its way underneath the frames of his glasses where it caught on an eyelash and hung there for a few seconds as though it was suspended in time. 

“Not now, not now.” He glanced up at the sky, staring at the clouds that oozed and billowed across the black void, grey shadows swirling across the stars and over the moon. There was a time he would have found it beautiful, when he would have lifted his camera and taken a photograph. There was a time when he would have continued to snap away as the storm hit, completely oblivious to the cold and wind and rain that saturated his skin and soaked his hair. But that time had passed long ago, and he found no beauty in it anymore. A jagged bolt of lightly ripped the sky in half and he staggered forward as quickly as he could, wincing as each icy raindrop pierced his skin. The rain was falling in sheets now, soaking through his jacket and into his sweater, and he looked around wildly, desperately searching for somewhere to shelter.

It was the obvious choice in the end, the welcoming glow that emanated out of every window drawing him towards it as though he was hypnotised. He’d sought shelter here so many times in recent months- too many times if Gladio’s words were to be believed. It wasn’t normally the rain he needed to shelter from though. It was from himself that he needed protection, from the barrage of emotions that so often overwhelmed him, the anger that built up in his stomach and ate away at his thoughts. Here he could forget who he was and what he’d done, for a few hours at least. And that feeling had turned out to be dangerously addictive.

Before he left, he’d promised Ignis and Gladio he’d head straight home after his visit to Noct’s grave, that he wouldn’t stop for a drink, no matter how awful he was feeling. But this was different. He was merely seeking protection from the storm. He was looking after himself for a change, just like Gladio was always telling him to. And besides, he was already late. Another half an hour wouldn’t make any difference to anyone. 

“Wow, what happened to you? You get attacked or something?” The barmaid that usually served him- he struggled to remember her name despite her having told him on more than one occasion- greeted him as he entered, her expression a mixture of horror, concern and confusion as she took in his appearance. 

“It’s raining,” Prompto replied with a shrug, pulling off his hat and running his hands through his hair. It was a little damp, sticking together in clumps at the back of his head, but the hat seemed to have provided some protection at least. He began to unwind his scarf, hesitating for a second as another shiver ran down his spine. His sweater was damper than he would have liked, especially at the cuffs, and he wasn’t sure he was warm enough to lose the scarf just yet. “I got wet…” His teeth were still chattering as he shrugged off his coat, slinging it over the back of the chair closest the fire in the hope it might dry out a bit before he had to head outside again. He wound the scarf back around his neck, pulling it up at the back so it took the place of his coat’s upturned collar. 

“I’m not talking about the rain.” She put down the glass she was cleaning and reached for a fresh one, gesturing for him to take his usual seat in front of the bar. “I’m talking about your face. What did you do?” 

Prompto perched on the barstool, taking the drink from her with a grateful smile. He took a sip, his muscles relaxing as the liquid ran down the back of his throat, the burning heat of the alcohol even more welcome than usual. 

“It’s just my face. I didn’t do anything to it.” He felt self conscious all of a sudden and bit at his bottom lip anxiously, reaching up with one hand to brush his hair back from his face. “It’s always like this.” His hair was a mess- he knew that without even looking at it. He could feel it sticking up in all directions, the stubborn tuft in the middle of his forehead refusing to flatten down no matter how hard he tried. He’d cut it short a few months back, enlisting Iris’ help and Gladio’s clippers to buzz it close to his scalp. It had been his way of trying to move on, of drawing a line in the sand and getting on with the rest of his life, a way of coming to terms with the fact that Noct was gone for good this time. But it had been a stupid idea and he’d regretted it almost immediately, hating the way his face looked without his bangs to frame it. It had grown a lot since then but it still wasn’t quite long enough to stop it sticking up awkwardly on the days he didn’t have time to style it. 

Prompto combed his fingers through it one last time before taking another gulp of his drink. He peered back at the barmaid, suddenly aware of the fact his glasses had completely steamed up somewhere in the transition between cold and warm, masking her face behind a cloud of mist. He took them off, rubbing each lens in turn on the bottom of his sweater, wincing as the wound on his hand scraped against the material. 

“You are ridiculous sometimes, Prompto.” The barmaid shook her head at him affectionately. “You have a lovely face.” She leant across to ruffle his hair, laughing playfully at his protestations. Her smile faded to a frown as she looked at him more closely, tilting his face to the side and staring at his chin. “But you’re injured. Your face is pretty bashed up here,” she continued, letting her fingers dust gently along his jawbone. “Didn’t you realise?”

“My face? No…I…I just hurt my hand.” Prompto held up his hand to show her his grazed palm before reaching up to run his own fingertips lightly over his chin. He cringed as they met moist, sticky blood in place of the chapped skin he’d expected to feel, quickly pulling them away and wrapping both hands tightly around his glass. “I… I didn’t know. I didn’t feel it.”

“Have you been drinking already?” She put her hands on her hips, the corners of her lips twitching as she looked at his almost empty glass. 

“This is my first.” He nodded at the glass forlornly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her teasing. He let his thumb drift across his chin again, skimming just over the surface of the graze. Pulling away, he turned his hand over and stared at his fingertips. They were dry, which suggested that the wound wasn’t still bleeding at least. And that meant it was probably just a surface wound, regardless of how bad it must look at the moment. With any luck it wouldn’t scar, though he didn’t seem to be having the best luck as of late.

“Then how the fuck did you end up like this?!”

Prompto shrugged again, staring down at his boots in an attempt to avoid looking at the barmaid. “I’m clumsy. I’m just fucking clumsy, okay?” He could feel her staring at him, her eyes fixated on his face, and he blushed furiously, wishing more than anything that the ground would open up and swallow him whole- anything to avoid being the centre of attention. He hated it at the best of times- always had done- and today had already been far too much of an emotional rollercoaster for him to deal with anything else.

“Okay, Prommy,” she sang, her voice light and playful. “No need to be so dramatic about it.”

He looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose to allow him to see her more clearly. Her eyes were sparkling with laughter and her lips were twitching as though she wanted to smile but wasn’t sure how he’d react. Not that he blamed her. He knew himself that he could be pretty unpredictable these days.

She poured him another drink, sliding it across the bar towards him before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a key. “I’m gonna pop back there and get something to clean that with.” She pointed towards his chin and he immediately reached up with one hand to cover it. “Try to look after yourself while I’m gone, okay?” Shooting a playful wink in his direction, she spun round and headed out of the door, leaving him to his drink and his thoughts- a bad combination on any day of the week. 

It wasn’t until she’d gone that Prompto realised how unusually quite it was. The room was barely lit, although that wasn’t unusual. He preferred it that way, actually- the dim light comforting and warming. Through the windows tricked the sallow light of the street-lamps, making the room glow and shimmer as though it was bathed in moonlight. He remembered coming here with Noct many years ago, although they’d both been much younger then. The first night they’d stumbled upon it, searching desperately at the time for an escape from the responsibility Noct seemed to find himself constantly buried under, they’d got so ridiculously drunk that when Gladio had eventually found them he’d had to literally drag them out, ignoring their moans and groans as he marched them back to their hotel. The smell had changed over the years, though Prompto couldn’t exactly say it had improved. Once it had been of cigarette smoke only, clinging to clothing and skin and furniture. That hadn’t dissipated, but it was now joined by stale beer and body odour, swirling in the air and wrapping itself around everyone who dared to drink there. 

Despite that, it was a popular bar- though that was perhaps the result of lack of choice rather than any more desirable qualities. Tonight, though, it was deserted apart from himself and a couple of regular patrons who had tucked themselves away in a particularly dark corner to share a cigarette. 

Prompto pulled his scarf up so it covered his chin, ignoring the itch as the wool pressed against the open wound. Sighing heavily, he rested his arms on the bar in front of him and staring into his drink. He was so focused on the swirling liquid as it clung to the sides of the glass that he didn’t hear the footsteps creeping up behind him. He jumped as the voice interrupted his thoughts, spinning around so quickly that he almost fell off the stool.

“Ignis told me I’d probably find you here…”

“Well, here I am…” Prompto reached up to smooth down his hair, suddenly wishing he’d bothered to spend time at least attempting to style it that morning. Ravus looked as perfect as he always did, his hair glistening silver under the soft glow of the lamps that littered the edges of the room. It hung down over his shoulders like the softest velvet curtain, not a single strand out of place in spite of the storm Prompto could hear raging outside. He was clean shaven and his skin looked as smooth as ever- almost as if he’d hadn’t aged a single minute since the last time Prompto had seen him. He felt his stomach somersault again and he closed his eyes, partly hoping that when he opened them Ravus would have disappeared. That would make this whole situation a damn sight easier. 

But it seemed like the gods had set out to make his life difficult today. And sure enough- when he opened his eyes Ravus was still there, staring down at him with so much concern that Prompto felt like someone had suddenly turned on an heater inside of him, a heater that was heating him up from the inside out and causing his skin to turn from its usual pale white to the shade of the ripest strawberry. 

“What part of ‘fuck off’ didn’t you understand?” Prompto stomach twisted with anger- though, once again, he wasn’t sure Ravus had done anything to deserve it. 

“When you’re told to fuck off as many times as I have been, you learn to work out which times can be ignored.”

Ravus smiled wryly, shaking his hair back from his eyes and straightening his cloak which had fallen open to reveal a far more casual sweater than Prompto had ever seen him wear before. It was strange to see him out of his usual formal attire, but it was a good look for him and Prompto felt his eyes drawn to him in the same hypnotic way he’d experienced when he was younger.

“Your powers of deduction must be slipping,” Prompto muttered, clasping his glass tightly between both hands. He’d meant what he said back at the cemetery, and yet he wasn’t unhappy to see Ravus here, though he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that even to himself. He tightening his grip further in an attempt to abate his growing anger, his palms pressing against the walls of the cup with such force he was half surprised it didn’t shatter right there and then. 

Ravus chuckled, his face softening as he met Prompto’s eyes. “I highly doubt that.”

“I don’t want you here,” he spat, his voice coming out much louder than he'd intended it to. “Please just leave me alone.” His words echoed around the empty room, bouncing off the walls and back to his ears so that he was forced to relive the harshness of his retaliation over and over again. 

“You’re wallowing.” Ravus crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow, his eyes settling on Prompto’s half finished drink. “You know how I feel about you wallowing.” He swept the glass away with his hand leaving Prompto to watch helplessly as it glided across the smooth wood of the bar, coming to a stop several inches away- conveniently just out of arms reach. 

“I want to wallow.” He leant over to grab it back, groaning in frustration when Ravus slapped his hand over it to hold it in place. “It’s what I came here to do.”

“And how does that seem to be working out for you tonight?”

Prompto glanced at Ravus over the top of his glasses, sinking back onto the bar stool when he saw how unrelenting he looked. There was no way on Eos he was going to let him finish that drink, not unless he wanted to take his chances and attempt to wrestle it away from him. Prompto considered it for a second, letting his outstretched arm hover temptingly near the glass. But then he remembered Ravus’ other arm- the one that was currently concealed by the thick velvet of his cloak- and he drew back his hand, running it through his hair before thrusting it into his pocket. “It sucks,” he admitted with a sad sniff. “This whole thing sucks.”

“I know.” Ravus released the glass and stepped closer, his hand lingering just above Prompto’s shoulder. Prompto held his breath, waiting for him to touch him. Wanting him to touch him. But eventually he pulled his hand away, moving it instead to his cloak where he gripped the material awkwardly around him as though he wasn’t sure what else to do with. He cleared his throat uneasily. “I didn’t come here to argue, Prompto. I came to offer my sympathy.”

“I don’t want your fucking sympathy.”

Prompto heard the screeching of wood against wood as Ravus pulled up a second bar stool and he buried his head in his hands. If he couldn’t see him, maybe he wouldn’t want him so much. 

“You’ve made that quite clear.” Ravus was so close now that Prompto could hear him breathing, his breaths slow and clear and even as they broke through the silence. “And yet I’m still here.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Doesn’t that tell you something?” Ravus’ voice was calm and quiet, and Prompto shivered as he felt a hand brush lightly against his shoulder.

He mumbled to himself inaudibly- though he wasn’t sure it would have made sense even if he’d spoken loud enough for Ravus to hear. His feelings were so muddled, his thoughts full of indecision as his mind was choosing this moment to hold a particularly passionate debate with his heart. It was difficult enough to form a coherent sentence in his own head let alone out loud so he closed his mouth and stared down at his hands. They were dirty from his fall and he picked at his fingernails in an attempt to clear out the grains of mud which had crept underneath them and lodged themselves there. After picking for several minutes to no avail, he stopped, turning his hands over to examine the graze on the palm of his hand. The skin there felt tight and itchy, although it was stinging a lot less now he’d had a couple of drinks. On the bright side, his fingers had at least begun to regain a bit of colour and were no longer the ghostly white they had been when he’d first peeled off his mittens. And hopefully the wound would scab over soon enough…

“You asked me earlier why I was here, why I’d taken the decision to visit Noctis’ grave.” Ravus spoke again, his words drifting gently through Prompto’s thoughts and bringing him back to reality. 

“And?” Prompto looked up, running a hand over his eyes and twisting his head so he was face to face with Ravus.

Ravus gasped as he caught sight of him, and Prompto immediately remembered his chin was in the same state as his hand. The scarf was hanging loosely around his neck now, having partly unravelled when he’d sat back up. He supposed it had done a good job at concealing the wound- good enough for Ravus not to notice anyway. But now there was no hiding it. Prompto felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Ravus was the definition of perfection, and right now at least he was a complete mess.

“You’re hurt.” Ravus peered at him, tilting his head to one side to get a better look. “Let me look at that.” He cupped Prompto’s cheek with his hand, his palm smooth and cool against his still burning face.

He felt his skin tingle where Ravus had touched him and pulled away quickly as though he’d been burnt, his heart beating erratically in his chest so hard that he thought for a second it might break free of his rib cage and fly out across the room. There were butterflies in there as well as in his stomach this time, but what surprised him the most was how good it felt. 

“I told you not to touch me!” Prompto looked up accusingly, his eyes burning with the anger he’d been feeling for longer than he could remember. It was funny really- in so many ways all he wanted was for Ravus to touch him, for him to run his hands over his body and make every inch of his skin tingle in the same way as his cheek. He wanted it so badly but this time he knew the price he’d have to pay. Giving into the temptation would mean more guilt, and he wasn’t sure how much more of that he could carry around with him. “I... I fucking loved him, okay?” The words caught at the back of his throat, and when they finally emerged they came out alongside a choked sob- the perfect accompaniment, Prompto thought, to the tears that were beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. 

“I know. So did my sister.” A sadness crept into Ravus’ voice and he trembled as he mentioned Luna, his eyes clouding over as though just saying her name was enough to dredge up memories of that awful day. He swallowed, and Prompto saw his bottom lip waver for no more than a split second before his expression hardened again. “That’s why I had to come, because Luna would have wanted me to.” He cleared his throat, running one hand through his hair before placing it down on top of Prompto’s and squeezing gently. “It’s one of the reasons anyway…”

“Only one?” Prompto slid his hand out from under Ravus’, quivering slightly as their fingertips met. Ravus’ touch had always felt like electricity, a spark running through his body and making his heart leap in his chest, and none of that had changed. If anything, it was even more intense than it had been all those years ago. He supposed that was only natural- that spending so many years craving intimacy had caused him to be hypersensitive to touch, especially when it was filled with so much tenderness. 

“Yes. There is one other reason I’m here.” Ravus didn’t move his hand this time, simply stretching out a single finger just enough for it to make contact with the tip of Prompto’s thumb. 

Ravus looked at him, his expression still hard and his eyes unreadable. But the faint pinkish hue spreading over the curves of his cheeks told Prompto everything he needed to know. It was obvious now- so obvious he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t realised it before. Ravus wasn’t here to visit Noct’s grave- or at least that hadn’t been the primary purpose for his visit. He’d come looking for Prompto, and it was clear from the way he awkwardly held himself, his back almost too straight and his posture almost too poised, that he’d come as more than a friend.

“You’re here to see me.” The butterflies fluttered inside Prompto’s chest, the sensation spreading now to the tips of his fingers and the soles of his feet as though Ravus had somehow managed to weave his way through every nerve of his body. Why did he want him so much? He didn’t _want_ to want him. He didn’t want to betray Noct. But his body wanted Ravus even if his mind didn’t, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore…

“Yes, my dear Prompto.” Ravus smiled, the hard angles of his face softening immediately. Prompto knew he was one of the few people who’d ever got to see Ravus like this. The softer side of him was usually hidden away, kept somewhere behind lock and key so that nobody had the opportunity to break through his barriers and get to know who he really was. But Prompto knew. Prompto had seen, and he’d liked what he’d seen. It was one of the reasons he’d continued to go to him for comfort- maybe even for love- despite the feeling of absolute self-hatred he’d felt every time they’d spent the night together. “I thought it was about time I checked how you were doing. It has been quite some time.”

“Not long enough.” The words themselves were meant to be angry but the tone was the opposite, and Prompto felt a smile creep onto his face in spite of himself.

“I see you’re still as fiery as ever.” Ravus chuckled again, his eyes twinkling with affection as he looked towards Prompto.

“Fiery?” Prompto raised his eyebrows, his obvious surprise simply causing Ravus to laugh more loudly. He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It’s not sure that’s a word I’d ever use to describe myself…”

Ravus took his hand, lifting it off his neck and setting it down on the bar, and this time Prompto didn’t resist. He sighed as Ravus turned it over and ran his fingertips lightly over his palm and up each finger in turn, dusting over the callouses that stubbornly distorted his skin in spite of the fact he hadn’t had any need to use a gun for years. 

“I’d say there’s no word that sums you up better.” Ravus raised one eyebrow, his obvious amusement only heightening Prompto’s discomfort. He never ceased to be amazed by the way other people saw him- different in so many ways to the way he saw himself. Noct had always told him he had a low opinion of himself, that it was his low self esteem that stopped him seeing how wonderful he really was. But he’d struggled to believe it even then- even from Noct- brushing off the compliments with a laugh and a flippant remark before directing the attention elsewhere. He’d spent hours standing in front of the mirror afterwards though, staring at himself, searching desperately for the Prompto everyone else saw, pleading with him to come out and show himself. He’d never seen him but he’d tried to believe, and in the end he almost managed to convince himself that he was the strong, competent fighter and loyal friend that others told him he was. But then Noct had died and believing anything other than what his mind told him over and over again had been impossible.

“Yeah… well… if you say so.” He felt the blush rising up his cheeks again, the heat spreading to the tips of ears which he knew would be glowing the deepest shade of red possible. 

Ravus laughed again, a soft expression of joy rippling across the still silent room. 

“You haven’t got any more accustomed to accepting compliments, I see?” He ran a finger down Prompto’s cheek, stroking it gently down the side of his jaw and along his chin, being careful to avoid the still-moist wound that was becoming more and more painful by the minute. But the pain wasn’t what Prompto was thinking about right now. How could he, when Ravus was touching him with such care and affection? How could he think about anything but the man in front of him? Especially now he was so close that he could smell him, his usual fragrance of coffee mixed with spices cutting through the bar’s stench and making Prompto want nothing more than to lean forward and bury his face in his hair. 

“Isn’t it reassuring to know that some things never change?” Prompto murmured, pressing his check into Ravus’ hand and closing his eyes, giving in to the pleasure he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience again.

“Incredibly so…” Ravus dropped a kiss on his forehead, his lips soft and moist as they made contact with Prompto’s skin. He let them linger there for a few moments before drawing back and turning away, the side of his face that wasn’t shrouded in shadow glowing against the shimmering light in a way that only emphasised his beauty.

Prompto swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest and his hands trembling as he fought to find the right words. He had to tell Ravus what was going through his mind, why he’d spent so many years avoiding his calls, why he’d always found an excuse to be out of town whenever he knew he was going to pay a visit. But more than that, he had to tell him how he felt- because those feelings were getting more real by the second, and if tonight was anything to go by they weren’t going to go away any time soon. And he was tired of resisting, tired of trying to tell himself that what he was feeling was wrong. Tired of being alone.

He cleared his throat, reaching for Ravus’ hand and pulling it towards him across the bar. Ravus turned to face him, his eyes bright and his mouth twisted into a smile that Prompto couldn’t help but mirror, despite the difficulty of what he was about to say. “I… every time I see you, I remember how I betrayed him.” He felt a tear roll down his cheek but he didn’t care this time. He didn’t want to hide how he was feeling anymore. And he didn’t have to. Ravus had seen him cry before, had seen him weep and scream and completely lose control, and he hadn’t so much as flinched. He’d just held him and waited for him to be ready for talk. He’d held him even as he’d struggled to get away, reassuring him even as he’d thrown the cruelest words he could think of in his direction. Prompto had tried to push him away- that was what he’d been doing for the past 5 years- but Ravus had persisted. So if he couldn’t be honest in front of Ravus, a man who clearly wanted him no matter how fucked up he was… well, he wasn’t sure there was anyone else in the whole of Eos he could share this with. He sniffed loudly, rubbing the back of his hand across his face and blinking to clear the tears. “What I did, what we did… it… it wasn’t right. I fucked everything up.”

For a few seconds, Ravus didn’t speak and Prompto wondered if he’d made a mistake in confiding in him. He hadn’t opened up this much in years- not since Noct’s death, at least. And yet Ravus’s expression was completely blank as though Prompto hadn’t said a single word, never mind bared his soul and let his darkest secrets spill out. He looked up at him pleadingly, his eyes wide behind his glasses, but he couldn’t find the words to ask the question he wanted to ask. He needed to know what Ravus was thinking. He needed to know if he’d spent their years apart thinking about what they’d done, or whether- as he’d always dreaded- he hadn’t given it a second thought. But he couldn’t ask. He’d never been able to ask…

Eventually, Ravus pulled his hand out from underneath Prompto’s, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. Prompto held his breath. Maybe he’d got it wrong. Maybe Ravus felt nothing for him. Or maybe it had somehow escaped his notice that he was, in actual fact, a complete and utter fuck up, and now that he knew he didn’t want anything to do with him.

“No.” Ravus leant forwards, slipping a finger underneath Prompto’s glasses and scooping up a stray tear that had caught there, hanging precariously near the bridge of his noise. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He sighed softly, his expression still unreadable but the tone of his voice so soft that Prompto knew he wasn’t angry.

“I loved him so much, Ravus. I should have been more loyal.” Prompto choked out the words, each one becoming harder than the last. “I should have…” His voice broke into a loud sob and he stopped, pressing his hands over his face and looking down at the ground.

Ravus reached up to stroke Prompto’s hair, brushing the river of tears away from his face and smoothing his thumb over his freckles, his soft fingertips comforting and familiar as they caressed his forehead, rubbing and smoothing away some of the tension that had built up there. He placed his hands on his shoulders, the pressure comforting as though it was keeping him locked in reality and stopping him from floating back into the dream-like state he’d allowed himself to sink further and further into recently. 

“Everyone gets lonely, Prompto. He would have understood that. He would have expected you to seek the comfort you needed.” Ravus spoke firmly now, moving his hands to Prompto’s cheeks and holding his face in his hands, his fingers catching the salty tears that were now flowing freely down his face.

“I know.”

“My darling Prompto…” Ravus started, his lips curved into a small, sad smile as he stared into his eyes. “Don’t you think maybe- just maybe- it’s time you forgave yourself.”

Prompto let out another sob and Ravus shuffled closer, hesitating for a moment before wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on top of his head. Prompto allowed himself to fall into his embrace, every muscle in his body trembling with emotion. They remained there for what felt like an eternity, Prompto’s face buried in Ravus’ chest, his hands grappling with the edges of his cloak, fingers tightly wrapped around the material as though he was clinging on for dear life.

“You cut your hair…” Ravus said fondly, nuzzling the side of his face against the soft bristles.

“Do you hate it?” Prompto wasn’t sure why it mattered to him what Ravus thought of his appearance but he suddenly found himself craving his approval. He peered up at him earnestly, trying to ignore the streaky tear stains that had dried on the surface of each lens of his glasses. 

“On the contrary.” Ravus smiled softly, running his fingers through the bristles and smoothing them back from Prompto’s forehead so the spiky tuft he hated so much stuck up from his scalp even more obviously than usual. “I find it… dare I say it… rather cute.”

“Cute?” Prompto frowned, pulling his head away and pressing his hair back down. “Aren’t I a little too old to be cute?”

Ravus chuckled loudly, ruffling his hair again before dropping a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’ll never be too old, and I promise it was meant as a compliment.” He held him at arms length and looked him up and down before nodding encouragingly. “It’s a good thing, Prompto. A very good thing.”

“It is?” Prompto gazed at him, his lips slightly parted and eyes wide in confusion. 

“It is.” Ravus smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It makes me want to do this.”

Ravus leant in and allowed his lips to dust over Prompto’s in the briefest of kisses, his breaths shaky and shallow as he pressed up against him. He pulled back momentarily, his face lacking his usual self confidence. There was something new behind his eyes, something that Prompto had seen so many times in himself when he looked in the mirror but hadn’t ever expected to see it in anyone else, especially not in Ravus. When he looked at him, he saw vulnerability, insecurity… perhaps even a hint of fear. Fear of rejection, maybe? Prompto wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it was all the encouragement he needed and he was unable to contain himself anymore. He took Ravus’ head in his hands and pulled him into a fiery and passionate kiss, his fingers intertwining with strands of silvery hair which weaved their way around his knuckles, locking them together. When he eventually pulled away, holding Ravus’ cheeks between his hands and staring at the fine lines at the corners of his eyes which were the only sign he’d aged at all, he was surprised that the overwhelming feeling running through him wasn’t guilt. It was happiness. And it felt good.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos and feedback keep me writing. Lacking a lot of confidence at the moment but I'm trying to be brave and keeping sharing!
> 
> [Come and chat on tumblr](https://butterfly-girl86.tumblr.com/).


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